


A Date With a Bullet

by merentha13



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-12
Updated: 2012-08-12
Packaged: 2017-11-12 00:43:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/484723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merentha13/pseuds/merentha13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A close call for the lads</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Date With a Bullet

 

So this is how it’s going to end.

The final whistle has blown signalling the finale to our season. A bloody, messy finish.

Bodie down for the count. Me staring death in the face, literally.

If the villain doesn’t end me, Cowley will. He’ll definitely have something to say about disregarding procedure, not to mention disobeying a direct order to wait for back up in order to save my partner. I can hear the old man now. But that doesn’t matter. What does matter is Bodie, slumped unconscious not two feet from me, head resting in a slowly growing puddle of blood. 

I’m sorry, mate. Didn’t get here in time. 

We’d got a call that Erin McConnell was making a pick up – some explosives intended to disrupt an MP’s birthday celebration. Cowley wanted this one badly. Bodie and I were having a ploughman’s at a pub in the area so the op fell to us. 

Bodie rolled his eyes as he put his R/T back in his pocket. “Duty calls, sunshine.”

I couldn’t hide my amusement when I saw the way he regarded his half finished lunch with regret. A better pout than a three year old, he has. Especially where food is involved. 

“Take it with you,” I prompted. “I’ll drive whilst you finish eating.”

‘You’re a brick, Doyle.” He grabbed the uneaten half of his sandwich and smiled at me. I guess that was my thanks.

We made it to the block of flats, Bodie haring off to check things around the back while I called in. 

I heard him yell, my name I think, and then I heard a gunshot. Cowley must have heard it too, ‘cause I could hear him shouting at me to wait for backup. Not likely, that. I dropped the R/T on the front seat of the car and drew my weapon. I headed to the back of the building following the path Bodie must have taken. The pavement was strewn with rubbish. The door to one of the flats was ajar. I carefully pushed it open wider with my foot, gun held out in front of me. There was no sound from inside. I moved in further and saw Bodie on the floor.

“Bodie!” I started to kneel down beside him and found myself staring down the barrel of a shooter.

One of the smarter birds I’d been with - Bodie insisted she was smart because she ended up dumpin’ me - figured out what I really did for a living and was fascinated by the danger. She asked if the old cliché was true - the one about your life flashin’ before your eyes when death appeared imminent. Lookin’ down the length of the weapon pointed at me, I realized I’d been here so often it was like watchin’ a bloody re-run!

So this was to be the end. Shouldn’t be surprised. Neither one of us expected to make old bones. I guess I hoped for a more glorious finish. At least we were goin’ together.

“Drop your gun.” The villain’s voice cuts through my thoughts. I set the Browning down by my foot.

“Kick it over here.” So this one is smarter than I thought. I kick the gun across the room.

I watch, frozen in place, as a finger tightens on the trigger. 

I catch a quick motion out of the corner of my eye and before I can move, the gunman is thrown backwards, a neat hole decorating the middle of a surprised forehead. 

I hear a muttered, “You need a keeper,” and I can’t stop the burning behind my eyes or the red heat staining my face. Bodie looks up at me from his sprawl on the floor. He slowly rolls himself into a sitting position, wiping blood from a deep crease on his temple.

“Nah, got one, haven’t I?” I reply and my voice betrays the emotions I can’t quite contain.

“All in a day’s work, Doyle. No need to go on about it.” He’s trying not to notice what my voice and eyes must be showing, but I can see his cheeks have coloured a bit too.

“Ah, Bodie. You dumb crud. I only-“

“Oi! Dumb crud, is it? Show a little respect for the bloke who saved your life, Doyle!”

And there, he did it again, didn’t he? Steering us away from what we both know is out there, away from the words poised like a gun with an itchy finger on the trigger. 

Soon, mate. 

Soon. 

This is one bullet we’re not going to be able to dodge.

**Author's Note:**

> For Tea & Swiss Roll Weekly Obbo 153 Prompts: season, respect picture prompt (gun)


End file.
